p style="text-align: left;"span style="font-family: 'Akkurat Std', -apple-system, BlinkMacSystemFont, 'Segoe UI', Roboto, Oxygen, Ubuntu, Cantarell, 'Helvetica Neue', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; white-space: pre;" That's a funny title, a train of thought. What a train got to do with it? Train is a good band, they wrote soul sister. Soul sister is also a funny name. Soul? Our soul is imaginary and thus meaningless. Or is it? I do believe that our soul is meaningless, but maybe not imaginary. Everything is either real, but meaningless or imaginary, but meaningful. Few things are that last one. Actually, nothing is. We try to make sense of it all, for example, this story, you are probably trying to make sense of it when that "it" is just a part of my imagination. I could start talking about anything, like why is there a person under my desk? Why are they recording everything I say? What does s/he want? There are more questions than answers, There are always more questions than answers. I will try to answer some. there is a person under my desk because of it, he? she? Must record everything I say. Why? Why not? What does he want? Who knows? Who knows anything? Nobody. Nobody knows anything. We pretend that we know everything, but we really don't. We do not. Why pretend? See, still more questions! One answer I have is the meaning of life the universe and everything is, but I shall not reveal it. I am holding a brain. Why? Why anything... In the year 4983, the universe was put into a cycle. The world was ending, so they created a machine to loop time back too 1792. Time is weird. I am going to look at the person under the desk. *several moments later* He is a normal person, with his five feet and his seventeen eyes on his neck. He has two tentacles though, even though he should have five. Sometimes If people are bad, the board of administrators cuts off the tentacles though so I am not worried. He said hi. I didn't respond. I would get punished if I did. The brain squishes in my hand. It is juicy. It... I... Me... You... The confusion I am experiencing emotions that I don't and can't comprehend, that I don't want to, but I must out of fear of retribution. The system is... intriguing, but if I say more, I will probably be punished. Random word contest. Licorish is the word, so I will talk about it. Licorish is disgusting. I don't like the taste or the texture. The texture of the text, Phones, foams! Foams are fun. They are squishy like the brain and enjoyable. The rain says sleep, so I must do so. Good Night./span/p